


Never Know What You Might Learn in Heathrow

by ChairOscuro (ConsciousLivingEntity)



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Airports, Cabinlock, Crossover, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Femlock, Genderswap, M/M, One Shot, Sherlock likes being a dick even when shes a lady, giftfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsciousLivingEntity/pseuds/ChairOscuro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two pilots and a consulting detective walk into an airport...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Know What You Might Learn in Heathrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Axolotl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axolotl/gifts).



> This is a lovely birthday present for Axolotl, who requested Mouglas or Femlock. I decided she ought to have both at once. This was written quickly while I procrastinated on some homework, so it's unbeta'd and full of mistakes, but I hope you all like it anyway. <3

It wasn't the circus, it was just the food court of Heathrow, but Douglas still looked like he'd seen something with multiple heads. He'd stopped halfway through a bite of a vinegar-soaked chip, and was staring somewhere over Martin's shoulder. 

"What's wrong?" Martin asked with a worried little frown. There wasn't a terrorist or a mugging or something going on right behind him, was there? He was afraid to look. 

Douglas shook himself, swallowed the bit of potato, and spoke. "No, it's just... Martin..." He turned his wide eyes on Martin now, seeming to inspect every part of him very, very closely. Then he looked over Martin's shoulder again. "Do you have a young aunt... Or perhaps a cousin?" 

"No, I don't..." Martin's ginger eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at Douglas in non-comprehension for a moment, before spinning around in his seat to see who was behind him. 

It took him a moment to see her. She was in stilettos and even if she hadn't been she'd have been taller than Martin had ever had a hope of being, and her hair was the color of a raven's wings, but... Despite that, Martin had to admit that he saw the resemblance. Her eyes were the same uncommon icy blue of his own. She had the same slightly pointy jaw and high cheekbones that Martin had.  She has the same slightly upturned nose and long face. She didn't have the freckles he was damned to, but her skin was the very same snow white shade as his own. and she had the same long, feminine eyelashes he had. She even had the same sort of body- Slim and almost fragile looking, but with strong muscles underneath- though of course she had a lovely, large set of- 

When Martin turned around again, he was red. "I- Are you saying that I look like a woman?" He asked, indignant, but otherwise not knowing how to handle the uncanny resemblance. 

Douglas snorted, but his eyes didn't leave the woman. "No- not in the slightest-- but I guess I've just learned that if you did, you'd be..." Douglas' eyes flicked back to Martin, and he had mischief in his eyes. "Well." The unspoken implication was that this woman, who looked so very very much like Martin, was very attractive. Unbelieving, Martin turned around again to see. 

A minute later, he turned around and slouched in his chair, defeated. "Is it conceited if I say I kind of know what you mean?" 

The woman was miles long, from the curls that fell just past her shoulders to her ankles in the oddly patterned but very posh stockings. She also curved in all the right places, filling out an aubergine pencil skirt and a black shirt with buttons straining. Her makeup was conservative and businesslike, making her very odd face very beautiful indeed, and she had a long sparkly set of dark earrings hanging from her ears. She'd rolled her sleeves up, and even with the consternation look on her face as she tapped on her phone with her neatly french-manicured fingernails, she was stunning. 

Martin looked up from the crumbs of his sandwich when Douglas didn't immediately answer, only to find that he was already gone, brushing past him confidently. "Douglas! Wait, What are you-" He turned again so his eyes could follow his first officer, and he watched with amazement as he went right up to the gorgeous woman. 

 ~~~

Boring.  She'd gone all the way to Seoul to ensure that a particular brand of perfume had shipped from there, and it just proved that the murderer was the businessman's sister. It would have been so much more interesting if it had been the Yakuza stowaway. It almost hadn't been worth the trip. Almost. 

"Good Evening, Madame, my name is-" 

"Richardson. Airplane First-Officer. Divorced three times. Recovering alcoholic." The moment she'd heard his voice, she'd taken a look at his shoes, his cuffs- pants and jacket- and finally, his face. It was all there, easy to see if you looked. Ugh. Sherlock hated it when men tried to hit on her. Especially one as fantastically ordinary as this one. She really ought to start wearing an engagement ring so they didn't approach her. Then again, John might have  problem with that. How illogical. 

The man was staring at her with wide eyes. "I- How did you-?" 

Sherlock rolled her icy blue eyes. "No, don't ask that, boring!" She said, sounding as though she ought to have stamped her foot as she said it. She sighed laboriously. Had to make him go away. Now. "Playboy past your prime. Closeted homosexual. Better try with a man this time before the number of ex-wives exceeds the number of stripes on your epaulets and you become too old for anyone to want to fuck you." 

He was pale now, and gaping, mouth opening and closing like a fish. First-Officer Richardson was as what Sherlock was sure was a rare loss of words. Sherlock glared at him until he spoke. 

"Um... R-right. I'll just..." And with that he turned and walked away, stunned. 

 ~~~

Martin's eyes only grew wider and wider and wider as he watched the woman take one look at Douglas and tell his normally smooth first officer off. Oh, ouch, that actually looked quite harsh! She didn't have to be so mean about it, did she? Even so, he was sure that Douglas could shrug it off. He'd seen Douglas chat up dozens of ladies in their time working together, and while more took a liking to him that he could fully believe, they didn't always. Douglas usually just returned to their table, shrugging and saying something about the number of fish in the sea, completely unbothered by rejection.

This time he was white as a sheet, and looked like he was about to fall over as he made his way back to the table.

Martin's eyes would have stayed on him if he wasn't distracted by the woman again. She'd looked up at something across the terminal. That something ended up being a man with a very average, very British face and sandy hair. He was hardly taller than Martin. The man came right up to her and grabbed her by her blouse, jerking her down to say something very heated to her, face to red face.  Martin would have taken objection to how rough he was to her except she didn't flinch at all, just replied, completely unfazed, and when he hung his head and wrapped his arms around her resignedly and she reciprocated, he could tell that this hug was between two lovers who cared very much. He'd seen enough reunions in airports to know the difference. 

He turned his attention back to Douglas, who was practically collapsing into his chair, still looking like he was about to pass out. Martin winced. "I'm sure it can't be that bad. You probably just aren't her type. And it looks like she has a boyfriend, too. It's her, not you." Martin knew it was the most pathetic thing anyone could ever say, but he wasn't exactly very good at this comfort thing.

"She had a rubbish personality anyway," Douglas told him, voice flat, shell-shocked. 

Martin nodded enthusiastically. "Right! Right. And anyway, you're taller than him, and way more attractive, so don't take it as a loss, okay? I mean, you charm the pants off of ladies left and right, just one doesn't matter, does it? I mean, I think you're an excellent prospect, so women must too, right? It's not like-"

"Martin." Martin stopped ranting so he could look at his first officer. Douglas was staring at him intently, and Martin's mouth shut with a snap. Douglas' eyes were dark, and seemed like the blood was finally coming back to his face. Martin swallowed.

"What?"

"What are you doing during our layover in Melbourne?"

Martin's eyes widened, and he went red. "N-no! Stop joking around, I didn't mean it like that!"

Douglas didn't blink. "Well, I do. I'm not joking. I want to take you to dinner."

The captain stared at Douglas in utter disbelief, but he looked more like a rabbit that was about to bolt than a scandalized man, so Douglas explained.

"I'm not getting any younger, and...I'm gay." He said it so matter-of-factly Martin couldn't do anything but stare with eyes open even wider.  "And if the fact that I just tried to chat up your doppelganger is any indication, I must think you're at least a little attractive." Now Douglas felt a little more in his element, somewhere between flirting and taking the piss. "And you think I'm an excellent prospect. What could it hurt?"

Martin stared for a while longer before swallowing. Douglas was his first officer, and his friend, and Martin had never thought of him that way. At least, not until this very moment. Well, he hadn't lied when he said he thought Douglas would be a good date. And now that he thought of it, Douglas was dishy, wasn't he? He cleared his throat. "Well, it's n-not like we don't know each other well enough..." As though surprised by his own words, he bounced up, grabbing his garbage and beginning a brisk walk to the rubbish bin.

Douglas was right behind. "Was that a yes?" He purred inquisitively.

Martin stopped at the rubbish bin, and he knew if he turned around, he and Douglas would be face to face, but he was too shy for that. "Y-yes," he stuttered softly. He threw out his plate, and saw Douglas' hand dropping his own in, his hand brushing Martin's wrist and then gently taking it, turning him around. Martin met his eyes for a split second, before looking away again. His face was as red as his hair. "Yes."

Douglas smirked, then put his hands in his pockets and turned from Martin, walking away from him and towards the terminal. "Take-off is in an hour," he called behind him. "And it's your turn to do the walk-around" 

 ~~~

Sherlock snorted and clicked her heels on the ground, rolling her eyes again. She hoped that he and his eerily familiar little red faced man were very happy together and she never saw them ever again. 

A very familiar jumper caught Sherlock's eye from across the terminal, and she smiled as she saw John approaching her, even if he looked aggravated. She didn't flinch when he grabbed her and pulled her down to his level.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He asked, practically yelling, too loud, exasperated. His brows were drawn far enough together that his forehead came together in lots of little folds. Worried. "Thought you'd just pop off to Korea for a bit, did you?" 

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. It was only an afternoon. It was for a case, and I had to pick something important up anyway." 

John looked up at her for another moment before he deflated. He knew he wouldn't win, not if it was for a case. But that was Sherlock. Married to the job. He knew that was what he was getting into, when they started this relationship. Sherlock was an infuriating woman, but she was brilliant too, and not just because she was clever.  

He took another step forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, and she put her arms around him too. She smiled. John was warm and familiar and as interesting as ever and he was the perfect height when she was wearing these shoes that when he hugged her his head pressed gently against her breasts. Embracing him was one of the most honestly comfortable experiences she'd ever had in her life. 

"You were in a flight halfway around the world. In the cargo hold." His voice was muffled.

"It was roomy, and I had plenty of time to deduce people's luggage."

"With a Japanese gangster."

"Only one of them. I've had to deal with more before."

John laughed. "Christ!" He let the hug continue for a long moment before he stepped away. "Better get back to the flat. You'll be wanting dinner, I suppose?"

Sherlock nodded, and reached forward to grasp his jumper with her nails. "Can I wear this?" She asked. 

Sherlock had started wearing his clothes to bed shortly after he moved in, and now that they were together, she told him exactly what she wanted to steal for the evening. Even if it was already on him. He sighed and nodded. "Of course. But wait until we get home first." 

Side by side they began the walk out of the terminal. John thought he'd had enough surprises for one day, but Sherlock's favorite pastime was to prove him wrong. 

"We should get engaged."

John spluttered for a moment, whipping his head around to stare at her. "We should what?" He asked, flabbergasted. 

Sherlock's perfectly waxed brows came together. "That rude man, he was making a pass at me. They're so tedious, John. If you proposed to me then I'd have a ring on my finger, and men would stop assuming I care about what they do for a living, or that I want to sleep with them." 

John highly doubted that the man who had hit on Sherlock was the rude one in the equation, but he didn't point it out. John's jaw clenched. "That's not why people get engaged, Sherlock. People get engaged because they plan to get married." John was used to Sherlock being oblivious about how one ought to act in a relationship, but he hadn't ever expected something like this.

"Then we'll get married."

John rubbed his temples, trying to displace the headache that was brewing. "It's not that easy, Sherlock, you don't just get married."

Sherlock crossed her arms, squishing her chest slightly. "Why not? Why shouldn't we get married? We already live together, and it's not as though either of us is ever going to find anyone else. What would it change?"

The doctor groaned and shook his head, trying to pretend he didn't hear what Sherlock was saying. "People actually get married because they want to spend the rest of their lives together! Because they want to share things and because they bloody well love each other, Sherlock!" He was practically yelling by now. Marriage was important, and Sherlock didn't seem to understand that or care at all.

Sherlock pouted rosy red lips. "I don't see what the problem is. We do all of that."

John blinked at her. "You love me?" He asked, hesitantly.

"Of course I do. Don't be an idiot." Sherlock's eyes met his, and it was clear she was ticked off that he didn't know, even though she'd never told him as much. 

John swallowed, feeling very numb and very warm and very happy all at once. He knew Sherlock liked him, but... Well, that was a surprise. Their working relationship was excellent, and their sex life was good, but he'd always thought that the feelings had been rather one sided. Clearly, he'd been wrong. He shouldn't have expected Sherlock to express herself like a normal human being anyway. 

"Fine. I'll... Think about it." 

Sherlock nodded and let her hands fall back to her sides. "Alright. Let me know what you decide."

They were silent for a little while, and for once the silence was awkward, so John tried to fill it. "You said you needed to pick something important up?"

She nodded and began to fumble with her coat in her arms, pulling a plastic take-away bag out of her coat pocket. She handed it to him, and he opened it up, looking inside and hoping he wouldn't see anything that looked like an organ. Instead what he saw were little red packets of pink candies with writing all over them. He had no idea what they said, since the writing was all in Japanese. "What are these?" He asked, curious. How could candies be so important?

"Mycroft used to get them for me when we spent the summers in Osaka as children. They're Japanese but the company distributes to Korea too. I thought of them when you were eating those strawberry jellies last night. You said you liked them. These are better."

John raised his his head from the bag and looked at her in disbelief. "You had time to pick these up while you were tracking gangsters?"

Sherlock shook her head and her curls went with it. "I had time to track Yakuza while I picked these up."

John blinked at her for a long moment, and then sighed , and dug in his own pocket. "I suppose I've got something for you, then." He might as well give up on tradition and normalcy now. After all, he was barmy over a woman who didn't care for either. It obviously wasn't like she didn't care, and though she was a bit dense, she was amazing anyway. Best hurry up and give up the ghost so other men stopped hitting on his girlfriend. 

John pulled out a little red felt box. He didn't bother giving a speech or kneeling down or opening it or even stopping. Neither did she. She took it from him and slipped it right into her own pocket. 

"I've been carrying that around for a fortnight, you know. Trying do decide if I should." When he looked up at her, she looked cool as a cucumber, but she had a wide smile on her face.

"I know," she said. "I went into your coat pocket for your phone last Thursday and felt it."

He sighed and nodded. "I should have known. I hope you like it."

"I do. It's shiny." She said it with a tone that almost teased.

Now the silence was completely comfortable, and Sherlock slipped her hand into John's. It was John who spoke first.

"Just, next time, Sherlock? Text me before you leave the country. I thought that would be too clingy as your boyfriend, but now I'm your fiance, so I'm entitled."

Sherlock huffed. "Fine."

John couldn't help but chuckle to himself periodically the whole rest of the way home, and Sherlock didn't call him out on it.


End file.
